


Prompt 19: Sharing a bed

by emmaknitsalot



Series: Flufftober 2020 [6]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bloggers - Freeform, Confident Alec Lightwood, Fluff, Flufftober 2020, M/M, Magnus Bane Is Having a Tough Time, Music, Prompt Fill, Social Media
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27301723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaknitsalot/pseuds/emmaknitsalot
Summary: "He might as well start digging himself a hole now. He knew it was completely obvious to Alec, handsome, puffer-jacket-wearing, organised Alec, that he had no idea who the band was."Or, Magnus and Alec are rival music bloggers (or are they really) and they meet each other in line to buy tickets to a show.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Series: Flufftober 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1961794
Comments: 4
Kudos: 86





	Prompt 19: Sharing a bed

**Author's Note:**

> Flufftober 2020 prompts found at vex-bittys dot tumblr dot com.
> 
> This prompt got chucked off the wharf with the clothes prompt hahaha. Idea given to me by my wife BlanketGaysAndRainyDays.
> 
> This will probably be the last prompt fill for a little while, I've decided to do NaNoWriMo, against my better judgement.

It was three am, tickets went on sale at seven, it was November in New York City and Magnus Bane hadn’t brought any supplies with him.

He didn’t even _like_ the fucking band. 

He wasn’t sure what kind of music it was, actually, but he just knew Alec Lightwood would be here bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, to get tickets, and add a brand new review to the witty repartee that was his blog. The blog that was very quickly overtaking Magnus’ own in popularity, with some of Magnus’ original followers _leaving him_ to wax poetic about Alec’s.

And Magnus was just petty enough to get in Alec’s way. 

He knew it wouldn’t actually accomplish anything, other than him feeling vindictively pleased with himself for getting here first.

 _You are pathetic_. This week his inner voice was his friend Raphael, the asshole. Raphael had already refused point-blank to bring Magnus anything warm because _it’s your own damned fault, you idiot_. 

“You don’t need to go to this concert, Magnus, your blog is still popular, Magnus, do you even know who the band is, Magnus,” he grumbled to himself, crossing his arms tightly and making himself as small as possible to keep the warmth in. He had never been so uncomfortable in his life and he was just about to make the decision to give up, screw Alec Lightwood and his fancy blog when the man himself showed up and plonked himself down on the ground next to Magnus. And damn it, he was prettier than his social media profile pictures.

Magnus was _seething_. 

“Hey,” Alec said, settling against the wall. He had a backpack and an expensive-looking sleeping bag with him. He was also wearing one of those feather filled jackets, and Magnus wasn’t jealous, not at all. 

Magnus grunted unattractively.

Alec stared at him a little— _probably thinks you’re a dick_ , inner-voice-Raphael said, stating the obvious—and shrugged slightly. He unzipped his sleeping bag and tucked it all around himself before opening his backpack and pulling out a thermos. 

_I bet that has some nice hot soup in it_ , said inner-voice-Raphael. _Maybe even hot chocolate or coffee._

“You want some coffee?” Alec interrupted his glaring session with pretend-Raphael. Alec was looking at him with a handsome smile—the asshole—and held up a second cup. 

_Told you._

“Oh shut up, Raphael,” Magnus huffed. 

Alec wavered and looked very, very confused. “Are you alright? You seem a bit peaky,” he said, pouring some coffee into the mug and handed it to Magnus. It smelled like what he imagined heaven would smell like. 

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, glaring at the coffee mug in his hands like it had personally slighted him. He took a sip. Dammit, he thought. It tasted like what he imagined heaven smelled like too. 

They sat in an awkward silence for a bit, each sipping their coffees. Magnus was _freezing_. He was forcing himself to not shiver, he didn’t want Alec to think he was a wimp. Alec haltingly tried to make conversation a few times, and Magnus mostly ignored him or gave him non-verbal answers. He knew he was being rude for absolutely no reason. He’d spent so long now being bitter about Alec’s growing popularity at the expense of his, that he couldn’t help himself.

“So,” Alec tried again. “How come you’re here so early?” He looked a bit nervous like Magnus was going to bite his head off for asking a question. _Because you’re being a dick_ , inner-voice-Raphael said mockingly. _I’m surprised he lasted this long, honestly_.

Magnus rolled his eyes and raised a haughty eyebrow and extracted his frozen hand from inside his thin jacket to point at the sign that said lit up in blue neon ‘TICKET SALES’.

Alec let out an explosive sigh. He had clearly had enough. “Okay,” he snapped. “Did I do something to offend you?” He crossed his arms and glared daggers at Magnus.

“No.” _Liar._

“Do you dislike me for some reason?” 

Magus sighed. It was exhausting being grumpy all the time, he didn’t know how Raphael did it. Magnus usually liked to fill the air with conversation—it usually didn’t matter about what—and he and Alec really did have loads in common. He had wasted the last hour and a half when they could have been talking about the quite frankly, excellent, review that Alec wrote the other week about one of Magnus’ favourite bands. Magnus was being petty and self-sabotaging and he knew it, which was the worst part. 

“I don’t dislike you,” Magnus finally answered. “I’m just very keen to get my tickets for…” He suddenly forgot the name of the band he was waiting in line for. Did he even know it in the first place? He wasn’t sure. He pulled up the venue email on his phone. “The Wiggles?”

Alec laughed. “You don’t know them?” he asked. He poured a second coffee out for both of them, still steaming. That thermos must be a good one, Magnus thought inelegantly. 

“Of course I know them,” he said. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. They’re…” He looked at his email again, ignoring the text messages from Raphael. He knew what they would say anyway. “A children’s band?” He might as well start digging himself a hole now. He knew it was completely obvious to Alec, handsome, puffer-jacket-wearing, organised Alec, that he had no idea who the band was. 

“Yeah,” said Alec. He sipped his coffee and _looked_ at Magnus across the top of the steaming mug. 

Magnus gave up. “Why the hell are you here in line at five am then?” 

Alec laughed again. It was like sunshine and birdsong and the scent of freshly cut grass after overnight rain. _Keep it in your pants, Magnus_. “Have you never seen the rabid soccer moms getting tickets to these shows?” he gestured vaguely at a couple of said soccer moms that were arriving to wait in line now. “It’s like being in a mosh pit. And this band is Australian and only here in New York for one show so the rabidness will be even worse. I promised I’d get my niece a ticket because she loves them so much. There’s a girl Wiggle now, did you know?” Alec finally paused to have another sip of coffee. His eyes had lit up during his little speech about rabid soccer moms and his niece. Magnus could just kick himself for the missed hours of music chat they could have had. If Alec spoke this passionately about kiddie music, imagine what he’d be like about the music he truly loved. 

“So…” Magnus started hesitatingly. “You aren’t here to get tickets to write a review after?” 

“Nah,” laughed Alec. He had nice teeth. “I might mention it on my Twitter or something but I’m going for my niece, not the Wiggles’ raw musical talent. Although, some of it is super catchy.” He paused. “Hang on, you know I’m a music reviewer?” 

All of Magnus’ irrational bitterness took over all of a sudden. “Yes I know you’re a reviewer!” he snapped, standing up and knocking over his now-empty coffee cup. “You are Alexander Lightwood, and you stole half my fans!” If Raphael were here right now, he’d be slapping him up the back of the head. Suddenly, he deflated. “I am sorry, Alexander. The popularity of your blog has just been grinding on me for a while now and it’s completely irrational and I’m sure there’s something else bothering me other than that, I’m not usually this petty. Or such an oversharer. Or such a dick.” He sighed and bent to pick up his phone. “I’ll leave you alone now, thank you for the coffee, enjoy the show with your niece.” 

Magnus had turned to leave when Alec called out. “Magnus! Come and sit back down, you’ve waited out here this long already. You can make it up to me by coming to the show with me and my niece?” He looked up at Magnus hopefully, Bambi eyes melting the frost in Magnus’ insides a little. A pity they didn’t melt the frost clinging to his eyelashes. 

Magnus sighed, again. He was sighing a lot tonight. Maybe he needed a nap. _Of course you need a nap_ , said inner-Raphael. _It’s the crack of fucking dawn_. Clearly even his inner Raphael had had enough, Raphael _never_ swore. Magnus sat back down next to Alec. “You’re right. And yes I will come to see…The Wiggles. I’m nothing if not stubborn.” He tried not to let the distaste in his voice show but he didn’t think he was successful. “How did you know my name?” he asked, trying unsuccessfully to hold back a wracking shiver. Half-five in the morning, in November, in New York City. 

“I’m literally your biggest fan, Magnus,” Alec said, smiling shyly and knocking his shoulder into Magnus’. Magnus felt it like a brand through his jacket, it was that cold. He noticed the sky lightening a little. Alec unwrapped his sleeping bag from himself and slid over closer to Magnus. “Come on Magnus, share the sleeping bag. I’m pretty sure your skin is supposed to be brown, not blue.” 

Magnus shook his head. “I’m fine,” he lied through chattering teeth. 

“Magnus, your stubbornness will make you freeze to death. Share the bag,” Alec insisted, throwing it over Magnus and pressing in tight. 

“Why are you being so nice to me,” Magnus grumbled, giving in and cuddling up in the furnace Alec had created beneath the sleeping bag over the past few hours. It felt like what heaven smelled like. Or maybe he was getting hypothermia and this was the end. 

Alec shrugged. “I’m your biggest fan, I said so before. You inspired me to start my own gig review blog, you know. Your articles introduced me to music I never knew I liked, and never knew I needed.” He paused in consideration. “I had no idea I was poaching your followers though.” 

“Really?” Magnus tilted his head up to look Alec in the eyes, choosing to ignore the follower poaching comment. He was embarrassed enough. “I inspired you? I didn’t even know you followed me.” 

“Yes, Magnus you inspire me.” Alec huffed out a laugh before adding, “I follow you under a pseudonym because I didn’t want you to notice me liking all your thirst posts.” His face shone a delicate shade of pink which Magnus found just charming, against his better judgement. Or maybe it was a reflection of the sunrise. _It’s still over an hour away_ , inner-Raphael teased. _You liiiiiike him_. 

Magnus himself didn’t blush, absolutely not. He wasn’t embarrassed of the thirst traps he posted on his Instagram. He was not. “I follow you under a pseudonym too,” he blurted. “But you never post any pictures of yourself, thirst traps or otherwise, your blog and social media accounts are _so professional_.” He closed his eyes in mortification and pressed his forehead into Alec’s shoulder. “If you did post such things I assure you I would be liking each and every one.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Alec said, smiling into Magnus’ hair that was tickling his face. 

They let a comfortable silence overtake them, and curled further into each other under the sleeping bag. There wasn’t that long to go until the ticket office opened and the sun rose fully. Magnus’ breathing had evened out. He’d fallen asleep with his face squashed into Alec’s shoulder. Alec would wake him up when the soccer moms started rioting. Magnus wouldn’t want to miss that carnage, Alec was sure of it. 

**Author's Note:**

> I am aware that people buy concert tickets on the internet now, don't @ me.


End file.
